Chapter 2 The Blood Oath

Nyxira POV

The man with glowing gold eyes steps closer, shadows curling around him like smoke. My legs feel heavy, like the magic in the room is holding me in place.

"Celestial?" I echo. My voice barely comes out.

He tilts his head. "You don't know, do you?"

I don't answer. I don't move. Every part of me is screaming to run, but there's nowhere to go. The creature-the one that tried to kill me-is still kneeling. Silent. Waiting.

The man lifts one hand and the beast melts into the ground like it was never there. Gone. Just like that.

My throat is dry. "Who are you?"

"Someone who's been waiting," he says. "For you."

Then he steps aside, revealing the path beyond the door-bright, cold light spilling across the dark stone. "This way."

I hesitate, my eyes flicking between him and the glowing doorway. This could be a trap. Another part of the test. But I can't stay in this room. I can still feel the heat of my mark on my palm, still feel the way everything shifted when it showed.

I step forward.

The air beyond the door feels different. Thinner. Humming with energy that makes my skin crawl. I follow the stranger down a hallway of glass and stone, walls lined with runes that pulse softly as we pass.

"What was that thing?" I ask.

"A Summoned Fear," he answers. "Pulled from your own thoughts. Crafted by magic. Most don't survive."

"And why did it kneel?"

He glances at me, expression unreadable. "Because it recognized you."

I stop walking. "What does that mean?"

He turns fully to face me. "It means your blood remembers. Even if you don't."

That doesn't help. If anything, it makes my head spin faster. "Look, I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not-"

"A threat?" he interrupts softly. "A secret? A survivor? You're all of those."

His eyes bore into mine.

"But you're also something this world hasn't seen in centuries."

I want to argue. To deny it. But deep inside, something stirs. Something ancient. Something that feels like fire waking up in my veins.

He lifts a hand again, and a symbol burns into the wall ahead-one I've seen before. In dreams. In flashes. A dragon wrapped in a circle of stars.

My mark pulses in answer.

"This isn't real," I whisper.

He steps closer, close enough I can smell the sharp scent of magic on his cloak.

"It's very real," he says. "And if you don't start preparing, they will destroy you before you have a chance to awaken fully."

I take a shaky breath. "Who's 'they'?"

He doesn't answer.

Instead, he hands me something. A thin black card with a silver crest etched into it.

"Keep this hidden," he says. "When the moon turns red, find me again."

The card hums in my fingers, cold and alive.

He turns and walks away, vanishing into the shadows like he was never real.

I'm left alone.

Again.

The next moment, I'm standing in a courtyard back at the Academy-no sign of the underground room, the kneeling creature, or the strange man with the burning eyes. Just students walking around, talking like nothing happened.

Was I dreaming?

"Nyxira!"

A voice cuts through the noise. I turn, and my stomach knots.

It's Zeryn Verridan.

He walks toward me with smooth, confident steps. The way he moves is all power and grace, like a hunter in control of every breath.

"I've been looking for you," he says.

My heart skips.

"You don't even know me."

He studies me. "No. But I felt something. When we locked eyes. You did too."

I swallow. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He smiles slightly, like he doesn't believe me for a second. "You're hiding something."

I fold my arms. "Aren't we all?"

He steps closer, eyes glowing faintly gold. "Careful, dragon girl."

The words hit me like a slap. I freeze.

But his smirk fades. "Don't worry. I won't say a word. For now."

My breath catches. "Why?"

Zeryn looks up toward the towers of Valemorth, voice quiet. "Because we're not enemies. Not yet."

Then he walks away, leaving me rooted in place, my heart hammering.

He knows.

He actually knows.

I barely make it through the rest of the day.

The other students talk about the Trials, whisper rumors of what happened in the chambers. No one knows what anyone else faced. That's how it's designed-personal, secret, dangerous. A way to weed out the weak.

But something tells me mine wasn't normal.

By nightfall, I'm in my dorm. 6A. A round tower with carved windows and floating lights. My roommate hasn't arrived yet. Or maybe I don't have one. I don't ask questions. I just lock the door, slide to the floor, and finally breathe.

I roll up my sleeve and look at the mark.

Still there. Still glowing faintly gold in the dark.

I trace it with a fingertip.

Dragonkind.

It's not supposed to exist. It was erased from history. Hunted. Burned from the world.

So why am I alive?

And why now?

I stare at the silver card in my hand. The one the stranger gave me. Its surface reflects the moonlight. No name. No message. Just the burning symbol.

Something is coming.

I don't sleep that night.

The next morning, the Academy changes again.

We're split into Houses-five of them, based on magical nature.

The Bloodfang House for werewolves.

Nightshade for vampires.

Aetherborne for the fae.

Soulforge for witches.

And the fifth-Ashendark.

No one knows what it means. It's for those who don't fit.

Guess where they put me?

The Ashendark crest appears on my uniform the next day. A dark star on black velvet. Everyone stares when I walk into the main hall.

Whispers follow me.

"She's not one of us."

"Maybe she's cursed."

"Maybe she's a mistake."

I keep walking. Head high. Eyes forward.

But then I feel it again.

Watching.

I glance toward the high balcony-and there he is.

Darian Ravelle.

The Vampire Heir.

He leans against the railing, silver hair catching the light, arms crossed, gaze locked on mine.

Cold. Curious.

Dangerous.

He doesn't smile.

He just disappears into shadow a moment later.

What does he want from me?

That night, something even stranger happens.

I wake up to a sound in my room.

Not footsteps.

Wings.

I sit up slowly.

Something is perched on the windowsill.

A raven.

Its eyes glow gold.

It drops a folded note on my bed and flies off without a sound.

My hands shake as I unfold it.

Only one line is written there, in spidery ink.

"The flames are waking. You are not alone."

Then the paper burns into ash in my hand-without fire.

And outside the window, the moon turns a deeper shade.

Almost red.

As I stare into the blood-washed sky, the air around me ripples-like something unseen is drawing closer.

Then a knock comes at the door.

Soft. Measured.

I don't answer.

But the door opens anyway.

And standing in the shadows is Darian Ravelle.

He doesn't speak.

He just smiles.

And my mark burns like fire.